Having spent over a decade analyzing basketball history and championship droughts, I've always been fascinated by teams that came agonizingly close to glory without ever lifting the trophy. The tension between near-success and ultimate failure creates some of the most compelling narratives in sports history. Watching teams like the current Phoenix Suns or Philadelphia 76ers chase that elusive title reminds me of how thin the margin can be between immortality and what-if stories.
The Utah Jazz of the late 1990s perfectly embody this heartbreaking narrative. I still get chills remembering how they pushed the Chicago Bulls to six games in both the 1997 and 1998 Finals. Karl Malone and John Stockton were so close to cementing their legacy that you could almost taste the champagne. That Game 6 in 1998 particularly stands out - when Michael Jordan hit that iconic shot over Bryon Russell, you could feel the entire state of Utah collectively holding its breath. The Jazz won 62 games during the 1996-97 season and followed it up with another 62-win campaign, establishing themselves as genuine contenders. Yet they ran into arguably the greatest team ever assembled. Sometimes, timing is everything in sports, and being great during the Jordan era was simply unfortunate timing.
Phoenix Suns fans have endured their share of heartbreak too. I've spoken with longtime supporters who still have nightmares about the 1993 Finals against Chicago or the controversial 2007 Western Conference semifinals against San Antonio. The Suns have reached the Finals three times in their history - 1976, 1993, and 2021 - yet somehow always found ways to come up short. The 1993 team featuring Charles Barkley was particularly special, winning 62 games and taking the Bulls to six games in the Finals. That team had everything you'd want in a champion except for the actual championship. The recent 2021 run felt different though - with Devin Booker emerging as a superstar and Chris Paul providing veteran leadership, many thought this might finally be Phoenix's moment. Watching them build a 2-0 lead only to drop four straight to Milwaukee was absolutely brutal.
What's fascinating about championship droughts is how they create these unique team chemistries and moments that become legendary in their own right. It reminds me of that brief period when Romeo and Pringle briefly played together during one stretch late in the third and early in the fourth quarter. Mostly though, Romeo and Pringle took turns in the Dyip backcourt. That kind of rotation - where players share moments but largely operate in separate spheres - mirrors how some of these championship-caliber teams functioned. They had moments of brilliance when everything clicked, but couldn't sustain it when it mattered most.
The Indiana Pacers' journey has been particularly compelling to follow. Reggie Miller's iconic moments against the Knicks and his 8 points in 9 seconds are the stuff of legend, yet the Pacers never got over the hump. Their 2000 Finals appearance against the Lakers featured one of the most competitive 4-2 series you'll ever see, with several games decided by single digits. Jalen Rose and Miller formed one of those dynamic backcourts that could explode at any moment, much like how Romeo and Pringle took turns leading the offense for the Dyip. There's something beautiful about teams that may not have the superstar power but find ways to compete through system and chemistry.
I've always had a soft spot for the Orlando Magic teams of the mid-1990s. Shaquille O'Neal and Penny Hardaway seemed destined for multiple championships when they reached the 1995 Finals. That sweep by Houston was deceptive - three of those games were decided by 7 points or fewer. Then Shaq leaves for LA, and the Magic rebuild around Hardaway only to run into Michael Jordan's Bulls in the 1996 Eastern Conference Finals. Sometimes franchises just can't catch a break.
The modern era presents its own set of heartbreaking stories. The Chris Paul-led LA Clippers of the mid-2010s should have broken through, while the James Harden Rockets took the greatest team of this generation - the Kevin Durant Warriors - to seven games in 2018. I still argue that if Chris Paul doesn't get injured in that series, we're talking about Houston differently today. The margin between champion and also-ran can be as thin as a hamstring.
What strikes me about all these teams is how they created their own unique identities despite never winning the ultimate prize. The Seven Seconds or Less Suns revolutionized offensive basketball. The Stockton-to-Malone pick-and-roll remains the gold standard for two-man games. These teams may not have banners hanging in their arenas, but they've secured places in basketball history through their style, resilience, and the unforgettable moments they provided. They remind us that greatness isn't always measured in championships, but in how close you can get and how hard you fight to cross that final barrier.